The Redeemed Page 13

  Maybe he would nap with her. Sounded like a good idea after a busy week.

  But their bedroom was empty.

  He scratched his head and whispered, “Where is she?”

  Her house keys were inside the house, sitting on the stand by the door. The front door had been locked. She was either in the house, in the back yard, or at a neighbor’s place. He looked out the bedroom window. The lawn chairs were where they always left them. No sign of her.

  “Janice?” he called out as he stopped at the top of the stairs.

  Something thumped from below. He looked over the railing.

  Instinctively he reached for his holster, but it wasn’t there. His eyes wandered to the cabinet by the front door. Then the table with the keys.

  He waited.

  The house remained silent.

  He started down the stairs, debating whether he should put his holster back on. At the bottom, he decided against it. Too paranoid. This was his house. The priest killer was dead. It was over. No one would be here but Janice. The crime rate in this neighborhood was very low. With no signs of forced entry, and no outward signs of a struggle, Janice was okay and he’d find her at any moment.

  “Janice?”

  The thump came again.

  This time it sounded like it came from the basement. He turned that way. The basement door sat open about three inches. They never left it ajar. Janice was in the basement. It made total sense. No wonder she couldn’t hear him calling her.

  He walked over, pulled the door open all the way and almost jumped out of his pants as his cell phone rang.

  He fumbled for it and stepped back from the basement stairs.

  “Yeah?” he blurted. “Who’s this?”

  “Aaron Stevens.”

  “Who?”

  “I’m with Sarah and Parkman.”

  “Okay, what’s up?”

  “We’ve got trouble.”

  He stared at the open door, the stairs descending to darkness, an eerie feeling rinsing his stomach. “What kind of trouble?”

  “Father Adams is dead but it’s not over.”

  “How’s that?”

  “We don’t know just yet. Sarah wants you to meet us at the hotel. She’ll fill you in there.”

  “When?”

  “Now.”

  “Can’t it wait?”

  “Hold on.”

  Hirst listened as Aaron pulled the phone away and spoke to someone, the mouthpiece covered. Then he came back.

  “No, it can’t wait. Meet us within the hour and tell no one about this, or hundreds of people will die. According to Sarah, our window of opportunity is closing fast. Within hours, there will be nothing we can do to stop this. Hirst, just meet us at the hotel. We’re in room 444.”

  “All right, I’ll be there in half an hour, but Adams is dead and the case is closed. I can’t imagine what Sarah must be talking about, but—”

  “Room 444. Just be there.”

  Aaron hung up.

  Hirst pocketed his phone.

  At the top of the stairs, he called his wife’s name. Briefly, he looked back at the gun cabinet, entertained the idea of fetching his weapon, shook his head at the silly notion, and started down the stairs. At the third step, he flicked on the light.

  Nothing happened.

  He tried the switch two more times. Still nothing.

  “Janice?” he said, his voice less sure, more cautious.

  Maybe she fell while changing the bulb. Or maybe she tried to navigate the stairs and fell down in the darkness.

  He pulled his cell phone out and turned on the flashlight feature. Using it to guide him down the rest of the stairs, Hirst got to the basement floor, swung the light around and headed for the other light switch that turned on the part of the basement under the living room.

  That switch worked.

  And he saw Janice.

  He almost dropped to his knees, but he’d been to enough crime scenes to remain on his feet. Only this one was personal. It was Janice, his Janice.

  As he walked over to her he asked all the usual questions. Who could’ve done this? Why did they do it? How did they do it?

  Janice’s hands were suspended above her head, tied to the unfinished basement’s wooden ceiling. She was suspended so her feet barely contacted the ground.

  Hirst’s stomach revolted and he gagged, breathing deep to keep the contents down. He took a couple of extra deep breaths even as his eyes watered at what his brain was trying to comprehend.

  Janice was naked except for a stained pair of white panties. Blood covered most of her body and her face looked like a thousand bees had stung her. Her lips were swollen to twice the size and her eyes were virtually swollen shut. Purple bruises covered most of her flesh and she bled in more than ten spots where someone had taken a small knife, like an X-Acto blade, and made tiny cuts. Not enough to kill, but enough to cause great pain.

  “Why?” he said out loud as he felt for a pulse.

  A thick plastic black collar was wrapped around her neck. He pulled on it and then leaned in close for a better look.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a voice said from behind him.

  Detective Hirst spun on the balls of his feet, ducking his head, his hands coming up in a defensive posture.

  Father Adams stood under the light, the shadow of his fedora covering one side of his face.

  “You!”

  “You see this?” Father Adams held up what looked like a remote control for a TV set. “This red button can be pressed from anywhere at any time and that collar around your wife’s neck will explode, effectively slicing her head clean off.”

  “What are you talking about?” Hirst said as he straightened up and took a step towards Adams.

  The priest withdrew a gun, clicked the safety, aimed at Hirst and fired the weapon. The bullet took a chunk out of the basement floor less than a foot in front of Hirst, then ricocheted once and came to a stop somewhere with a solid thunk.

  “Are you fucking crazy?” Hirst gestured with both hands. “What do you want?”

  “What everyone wants.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Equality.”

  “Come again.”

  “This isn’t the time. Let’s talk about something a little more pressing, shall we?”

  Hirst waited for Adams to speak as sweat rolled into his eyes. He blinked it away.

  “Detective Hirst. Walk around behind your wife, please.”

  “What are you, a magician? I mean, how did you do it? I saw your body on the autopsy table.”

  “That wasn’t my body. Now, just walk around behind your wife.” Adams raised the gun and pointed it at Hirst.

  Hirst did as he was told, wishing he had gotten his gun in the cabinet after all. “Then whose body was it?”

  “My brother, Mike. He was always a little less organized than I was. Messier. Working with him for these murders was an exercise in futility. I had a feeling his death was coming. But that doesn’t matter as I will be dead very soon as well. Do you see the digital timer on my little device?”

  Hirst examined his wife’s neck. He pulled Janice’s hair aside and saw the small red digits, counting down from thirty hours.

  “Yes,” he said. “I see it.”

  “The collar around your wife’s neck is timed to detonate tomorrow at six in the evening. I will be dead by four in the afternoon. That will give you two hours to bring your bomb squad over and remove the collar after I have deactivated it. Do you understand what I have told you?”

  “Yes, but how will you deactivate it? If you can, then just do it now.”

  “How I turn it off isn’t important. But what is of great importance is that you understand my instructions as I give them to you.”

  Hirst stared at the priest for a moment, then nodded.

  “Good. Sit down.”

  He looked around for a chair.

  “Sit on the floor by your wife’s legs.”

  Hirs
t did as he was told.

  “Listen carefully to what I need, and you and your wife will survive this little ordeal.”

  Surprised by his calm and clear head, he asked, “What did you do to her?”

  “She let me in, we had tea, we discussed you. Then she rooted around down here looking for her Bible. I simply offered her atonement for her sins. I was surprised at how sinful she has been. I’m sorry if she is in a state of disrepair, but I assure you, it was necessary. She is still alive and will remain that way as long as you do what I want.”

  “And what is that?” Hirst asked. He adjusted himself and sat cross-legged. “What do you want?”

  “I will be doing the eulogy tomorrow at my brother’s funeral. Be there. And bring that girl Sarah Roberts and her friend Parkman. Listen to my eulogy with the rest of my congregation and then I will die and be buried. Do this and it will truly be over. You and your wife will be free.”

  “I was planning on being there anyway. You didn’t have to do this.”

  “You were. But now that Sarah and Parkman are done in L.A., they may leave. Your wife’s life depends on them being at the church. If they are not, I push this button.” Adams pointed at the red button on the remote in his hand. “The collar is tamper proof. If you attempt to remove it, your wife dies. If the time runs out, your wife dies. If Sarah and Parkman don’t show up tomorrow, your wife dies. There is nothing you can do for her except what I tell you.”

  “How am I supposed to save her after we all come to the eulogy?” Hirst wiped at tears. He didn’t want to cry, but the thought of losing Janice—and the pain she must’ve gone through already at this maniac’s hands—drove him nearly insane with anger and sadness.

  “You’ll have to trust me. Once the eulogy is complete, I will hand you this remote and explain how to deactivate the collar. There is a way and only I know how. In the unlikely event that I die before tomorrow mid-afternoon, Janice will die, too. Please don’t be stupid, Mr. Hirst. Do what is asked of you and tell no one of our arrangement. There is nothing that can stop Janice’s death except you listening to my instructions.”

  Tears dripped down his cheeks. He wiped at them.

  “Try to kill me now,” Father Adams continued, “and your wife dies.” Father Adams stepped backwards, keeping his gun trained on Hirst. “I expect to see you tomorrow with Sarah and Parkman at church. It’s been far too long, I’m sure.”

  Father Adams got to the stairs and paused.

  “Any questions?”

  How could Father Adams be alive unless he didn’t attack Sarah in the hospital room? But the autopsy was performed on Father Michael Adams. There was no doubt. That left the notion of identical twins.

  Father Adams had to be a twin. But a twin that no one knew anything about?

  “You’re examining your options?” Adams shook his head back and forth. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. There is only one option here. The only way out of this is to have everyone show up at the church tomorrow. When my eulogy is over, I free your wife, and then I die. You won’t get the chance to arrest me. That is all I can offer you.”

  Father Adams headed up the stairs.

  Detective Hirst bowed his head and wept. When he was done, he wiped his eyes and looked up at his unconscious wife’s face. He had failed her. He had done this. He couldn’t wake her because he would have to face her. It was better if she slept through the pain.

  He unplugged the large freezer in the corner of the basement and pushed it toward Janice as quietly as he could. Then he grabbed a throw blanket and laid it across the white top of the freezer. Once he was ready and the freezer was lined up, he slid it under his wife’s dangling body. First her knees, then her butt lay on the freezer. When it was completely under her, her body weight was no longer pulling on her hands. Then he used part of the throw blanket to cover her mostly naked body.

  Without another look at her, he walked out of the basement.

  At the front door, Hirst grabbed his holster, strapped it on under his suit jacket, picked up his car keys, and locked the door on the way out.

  Why did Father Adams have it in for Sarah and Parkman? What was their connection and why use Janice as leverage to get them to the church?

  A cop’s wife was off limits. Sarah, Aaron and Parkman brought this on. They brought this to his family’s doorstep. He was sure he would learn everything he needed in room 444.

  But to make sure, he pulled out his cell phone.

  It was time to call in a few favors.

  Chapter 33

  Aaron pulled the minivan into the parking space at the hotel. He turned to Sarah. “Do you need a hand?”

  “Nope.” Sarah opened her door, pulled her crutch out and hopped down. She slammed the door behind her and started for the hotel lobby.

  “Help Parkman,” she called over her shoulder. “Let’s go. We need to talk. I need to think. We’re running out of time. I’ll meet you two in the room.”

  She got to the elevators and rose to the fourth floor. Once inside the room, she sat in the plush chair by the window and waited, staring outside.

  Moments later, Aaron helped Parkman through the door and eased him onto the couch. He winced, but didn’t utter a complaint. Aaron turned on the kettle, then came and sat in the chair opposite Sarah.

  “Is Hirst on his way?” she asked.

  Aaron nodded. “He’s coming.”

  “We’ll wait for him. I need to think until he gets here. I don’t want to say everything twice.”

  “Tea or coffee while we wait?” Aaron asked.

  “Coffee.”

  “Nothing for me,” Parkman mumbled.

  Aaron prepared the cups quietly.

  “I need the hotel stationery,” Sarah said. “When you’re done over there, can you bring it to me? Vivian has a few things to explain and I’m not sure how she wants to go about that.”

  Aaron tilted his head and looked at her. “Not sure? What does that mean?”

  “You’ll see shortly.”

  Parkman rested his head back on the couch and closed his eyes. Minutes later, Aaron brought her a cup of coffee and the notepad from the desk. He grabbed his coffee and sat down.

  Nothing solid came to her immediately. Only the faint whisper of an idea. Like an echo calling through the trees, a hollow sound accompanied by a light breeze. Her sister’s voice, the susurrations of her soul, her existence, her essence. What was once Vivian, the young girl, now an old soul on the other side, was a mature woman filled with pleasure and joy. The pain that came with Vivian, the loss, was something external, something she talked about, but didn’t actually feel anymore on the other side. Not like a memory bank, more like a memory vault, sealed away behind walls Vivian could travel through by thought.

  Sarah had begun to feel Vivian’s memories like her own, but they were still foreign enough to know the difference.

  Someone knocked on the door. Her eyes popped open. Aaron jumped up to answer it. Parkman sat in the same spot, rubbing his eyes.

  There was feeling that something wasn’t quite right.

  Detective Hirst brought friends, but they remained hidden in the hallway. Hirst was angry. He wanted answers and he knew more than what Aaron had said on the phone.

  Aaron let Detective Hirst in the room. Sarah sipped her coffee, then she spit it back in the cup.

  “It’s cold, Aaron. Didn’t you heat it up?”

  “Sarah, you’ve been out for half an hour.”

  That surprised her, but she didn’t show it. The paper in her hand was empty. This new way Vivian talked to her was so fresh that she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to tell everyone. She had felt Vivian’s pain locked away. A darkness so deep it swirled against its confines, injuring the vessel that contained it. Sarah had mentally stood near the vault that held Vivian’s pain and was sure it would explode and cover her, but it didn’t.

  What the hell, Vivian?

  “You want a coffee, Detective Hirst?” Aaron asked as he closed the door behind him.
>
  Hirst ignored him. He moved into the center of the room, assessed Parkman, looked at Sarah, then back at Aaron.

  “Why am I here?” he asked.

  “You looked pissed,” Sarah said.

  “Why am I here?”